Mike, The International Journalist, A Truly Multicultural Dog

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So, we had one American Shih Tzu...who understood English
and Spanish, one British Pekingese who understood only
German and Quebec French, one French-Canadian cat and
a French-Canadian horse, who initially only knew French
but now reacts to perfect American English.

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Canine Jet-Setter

Needless to say, coming into a background like this, Mike turned into a very unusual dog, indeed. His best friend, aside from his immediate pet family at home (which includes a horse, a Persian cat and two Pekingese puppies) is a gorilla, of all things. This is due to the fact that I returned to school at age 30 to study primatology, specialising in gorillas. One of them took a shine to me and, with me being unable to return his feelings, he got stuck on Mike instead! When we first got Mike, I was starting out in my work as an international journalist, meaning that I was stationed in one country, reporting about events, for a newspaper in another. While I was on assignment in Texas in 1989, writing about death row, I bought Mike by accident. That story happens to be an excerpt of Mike's new book, which was released this year - but more about this later. I had a Pekingese at home in Canada, called Tiny, who was left behind, looking after our horse-farm, together with my husband. When we brought Mike home, he and Tiny became instant best friends, despite the fact that Tiny was a Pekingese and "spoke" only German. It was very funny, seeing the looks on people's faces when I took them for a walk together. I would switch from German to English, depending on which dog I addressed. Throughout his life, Tiny never learned a word of English and their upcoming (second) book actually contains a glossary of German baby language, which is all Tiny knew. The German baby language they both reacted to was: Mitkommeln?= Do you guys want to come? Tiny:mitkommeln, Mike: hierbleibeln = Tiny comes, Mike stays - wherupon Tiny would walk to the door and Mike would dutifully step back. Wiedersehnel = You both stay here. This would result in a funeral-face on both dogs, and hanging tails, as they reproachfully watched me walk through the door, without them.

At the horse-farm in Canada, the little dogs went out together to herd "their" horses, and had a brilliant time, roaming free across the vast expanse of the Canadian countryside. For some reason, inter-species communication never seemed to be a problem. Tiny simply barked at a horse, about 1000 times his size, and the towering equine stood, quivering, until I was able to put the halter on. No kidding, Tiny was little, but he had a way about him, as most Pekingeses do, to make him appear a giant. Later, I had to go to Texas for four years, as a reporter - Tiny and Mike accompanied me. They had countless, wonderful adventures together, whether it was cheering up Hispanic slum kids with their antics, to excited exclamations of "Que bonito!" engaging in impromptu pet therapy on death row and in hospitals, or making celebrities smile by jumping on their laps during interviews. When we had time off, we used to go to some lovely Texas beaches and parks, where Tiny and Mike would take each other for a walk - on either end of the leash, sometimes wrapping themselves around a tree, or pulling in different directions.They were a wonderful couple who devised their own wrestling routine, which lasted some 20 minutes and which they would use to entertain visitors from many different countries who came to our home. The show always ended with Mike pulling a grinning Tiny by his tail across the carpet, then they would come up to the visitor and stand before him, wagging their tails, expecting applause and a dog biscuit as reward for another, wonderful performance.

When we returned to Canada from Texas, Tiny and Mike took time off to enjoy the lovely countryside, together with their Persian cat. They both loved Persian cats and had theirs trained to walk on a leash - the three of them would go to the beach together on 3 different leashes, which we tied together. Everywhere they went, they attracted attention, and Mike defended "His" cat against anyone who came near. A few years on, we had sold the horse-farm but kept one horse. So, we had one American Shih Tzu (or should I say, Texan Shih Tzu, as this is almost a country on its own) who understood English and Spanish, one British Pekingese who understood only German and Quebec French, one French-Canadian cat and a French-Canadian horse, who initially only knew French but now reacts to perfect American English.

We then moved to Rhode Island, where I had to do some work. I was researching a book on another multicultural writer, Anthony Burgess ("Clockwork Orange"). He was born in Manchester, England, lived in Monte Carlo and Switzerland and frequently travelled and lectured in America, not to mention that he considered himself Malaysian at heart, spoke the language fluently and cooked wicked Malaysian fish. I tried most of the recipes Burgess had left behind. The dogs got used to my multicultural cooking although they were dismayed to discover fresh seaweed in their food bowls, but alas, it is good for you, and the Asian nations tend to have very low cancer rates, so it must be good for dogs, too ...

Mike, a better traveller than Tiny, accompanied me from Rhode Island to an airshow in Tennessee, while I was researching a book about women pilots. He became an airshow VIP for 5 days, which he enjoyed immensely. We met a truly multicultural woman pilot, Patty Wagstaff, whose upbringing even rivalled my own: born in the USA, she had grown up in Japan, attended boarding school in Switzerland and then gone on to live in Australia. Beautiful, talented Patty was American-Japanese-European-Australian, as her biography, Fire and Air, clearly shows. Wow! Of course, Mike and Patty were bound to take a shine to each other - the web-page for Mike's book shows a picture of a very happy Patty Wagstaff, cuddling a certain, well-travelled Shih Tzu in her arms.

Cancer and supplements

In Rhode Island, Mike was suddenly diagnosed with cancer. A big tumor literally sprang up overnight. Until then, Mike had always been so healthy that it was hard to believe he could be ill. After his operation, the vet put Mike on megavitamin supplements, as is done for human cancer patients, in the hope to boost his immune system to prevent the cancer from coming back. He got 25 000 IU of Betacarotine a day. Afterwards, Mike had to change his diet to incorporate a lot of supplements to keep his good health. He now eats Nutros Senior as the main part of his diet, but this is supplemented with cod liver oil, garlic, kelp, an ACE Selenium anti-oxidant special pet vitamin, extra Vitamin C whenever he travels, E Vitamin powder, a general Multivitamin powder and Green-lipped mussel extract for arthritis prevention. Mike enjoys all his supplements, except the garlic, of which he hates the taste and smell, so I always have to try to hide it. Once a week, he gets a raw egg. We live in the countryside and can get them freshly laid, each day. He also, once a week, gets a natural diet of roast chicken with rice or cereal with rasped carrots and zuccini on top. I usually try to get some fresh carrot into his every other meal, because he is no longer allowed to take the megadoses of Beta-carotine but still needs it.

Back to his story: From Rhode Island, we moved to Europe. Mike and Tiny spent 3 years in continental Europe, Switzerland, France and Germany, where Mike met his first cow and they both went hiking in the Alps together. Then we all went to England, where we still live now. By the time we got here, Tiny was 11 and Mike 10. They had turned into a lovely old dog couple, who would lie in the green grass of England (it really is very green here, probably on account of the constant rain) in the sun, not a care in the world. They would go off walking together, by themselves, along the riverfront. Together, we discovered ancient English chapels, National Trust monuments and the like. As always, the little dogs loved taking photos together - they are natural posers. Because of the quarantine, we had left their cat behind in Germany with a good friend and cat lover, but they had each other and although we knew they wanted a "kittykat" (they do know that word) again, they did not seem too disturbed.

Loss and Survival

Tiny died in January, aged 13, in his sleep, after a very bad time at the vet. Mike was devastated, as were we all, but with Mike, it turned into a full-blown depression. They had been together all their lives and had travelled the world together. Suddenly, Mike's world had come apart. He would listlessly sit in an armchair and not be interested in going outside anymore. The vet said if I do not get him another dog, and also a cat, I might loose Mike, too. He said sometimes animals that have been together as long as Tiny and Mike, die within a very short time of each other, because the other one has nothing to live for anymore. First, I got a Persian cat from the cat rescue. It helped and Mike started running around again. But something was still missing, another dog. Eventually, we got a Pekingese puppy, and Mike bounced back from his depression. It was the most wonderful thing to see - the new puppy was grey, like Tiny. He idolised Mike from the word go, so much that he housetrained himself on the first day. The Mini (that is the new Pekingese's name) watched Mike do his business outside and figured that it must be a status symbol to go to the toilet outside, rather than indoors, on paper. From then on, he insisted on doing his business outdoors, like Mike. Mike taught the Mini his wrestling routine he had done with Tiny. It was wonderful to see him wrestling about, with Mini, on the floor. Every once in a while, he would stop in the middle and get a sad look on his face, look to where Tiny used to lie, and then at me. But the Mini would soon snap him out of it and they'd be at it again. Now, Mike does not seem to get these sad moments that much.

Eventually, I wrote a book about Tiny and Mike's extraordinary lives together, which was published this year. On the advice of the vet, who said Mike should be "working" again, we then got a second contract for a book about Mini and Mike. Together, they went to Crufts, one of the biggest dog shows in the world. They had a brilliant time, introducing their book together with British actor James Dreyfuss (who starred in "Notting Hill" together with Julia Roberts), having their photo taken by Lisa Croft-Elliot, one of the world's best dog photographers, and charming the hotel staff, in a scene that could have come straight out of the movie "Best in Show." When we returned from Crufts, Mike enjoyed long walks with Mini, through the Dorset countryside. The vet said that it is very important to keep an old dog active, so we try to fit in a walk a day. It is very pretty here, so it does not take much convincing to get off one's backside and into the lovely cliff walks of Dorset.

We gained another Pekingese by accident, a little sleeve puppy. She was only going to stay with us for a while, as a foster. But the Mini fell in love with her and now we are a three-dog family. Mike has a wonderful time, rolling around the floor with the two puppies and it seems to have years taken off her! In fact, our vet recently said that Mike has the physical age of an 8-year old - not bad! Both Pekingeses, needless to say, understand, and react to, German baby language!

America's Cup, Australia, and plenty of Yachts

Later this summer, Mike was the only dog to be accredited as a journalist at the BT Global Challenge Round-The-World Race Homecoming. They had been at sea for nine months, boats from every corner of the earth. On board were celebrities, CEOs and "normal" people, all paying something like 10 000 Pounds to take part in what has been called "The World's toughest Yachtrace" - for a good cause, one must say. They raised one Million Pounds for the Save the Children's fund. And who was there, presenting the cheque together with local celebrities, proudly wearing his press pass and smiling into the camera? Mike!

Later, he was first on the dock to welcome the adventurers home, including a lovely lady called Babs Powell, a famous, former dancer and the wife of British actor Robert Powell. Powell shot to international fame in the seventies, when he played Jesus in Zeferelli's Jesus of Nazareth. He was also Captain Walker in "Tommy", and had the lead role in the very spooky movie "Survivor." Babs was touched to be met by Mike at the docks, and the first thing she said to me was "geez, I miss my dogs." The Powells have two senior dogs, too.

We met Babs again at the America's Cup Jubilee Regatta in Cowes, where I said to her, "Babs, I have got an old, dear friend of yours with me who wants to say hello." Her face lit up when I took her to meet Mike. She was overjoyed to see him again and said that she really enjoyed photos of herself and Mike, with Mike at the wheel of her round-the-world yacht, which I had sent her. At this moment, Babs is avidly reading Mike's book. Mike's book, "Two dogs and a Journalist - a British Pekingese and an American Shih Tzu travel the world", published in the US, was released in England about the time of the America's Cup Jubilee Regatta, which marked the 150th anniversary of the America's Cup. The Regatta, billed as the world's most important yachting event, ever, was being held in the well-known sailing
resort of Cowes, on the Isle of Wight, off the British coast.

My husband, Phil, a well-known British Olympic sailor and former America's Cup Skipper whom I met while covering the 1987 America's Cup in Perth, was sailing, and Mike was "covering" the event (complete with a press pass bearing his passport photo!). What better time for a book signing at Ottakars, a big bookstore chain in England? Things did not get off to a very good start. As an international journalist, my extended family has for a long time been made up of other journalists. You meet here and there, sometimes the States, sometimes Australia, sometimes Europe and as if the years had not passed, you tend to take up where you left off with your old friends. At the Jubilee Regatta, I had been hoping to meet up again with a dear, old friend from my Australian days, by the name of Bruce Walker, chief sport reporter for Channel 9 Television in Perth, Australia.

I had started out in journalism as an Australian correspondent, and Bruce had been the one who showed me the ropes. One of the best journalists in the business, he had foregone what could have been a very high-profile, international career, for his family, giving it all up for his 3 kids and a marriage lasting almost 40 years. He had chosen to make his mark as a local Australian journalist instead, but had still been very much of an international player, travelling the world for stories, and giving me advice for most of my career. With his brilliant sense of humour, he had always managed to turn even the most embarrassing of my early career disasters into something I could laugh about, rather than blow my head off over. I had been looking forward to seeing him again, in Cowes, and knew that he would go ga-ga over Mike and would certainly accompany us to our book signing. The day before the book signing, I learned, from another journalist, that Bruce had died in Australia, aged 60, of a heart attack. This was why I had not been able to find him in the press center! I was devastated, and spent the night before the book signing on my own by the seaside, cradling a cup of tea, crying, and miserable. But with Mike's and Tiny's photo plastered all over town, announcing the book signing, there was no way to pull out.

I was still terribly sad, the next day, as we got to the bookstore. Mike came through like a champion. He sensed, as old dogs often do, after a lifetime of tuning in to their owner's moods, that something was wrong and that I was not up to my best. As people started lining up for the book signing, my thoughts were still with Bruce; I couldn't help it. Mike took charge, as if he were going to say: "Don't worry, I'll handle things from here on." He positioned himself in the doorway of Ottakars, greeting the customers and getting them over to our table. If somebody walked by and went to browse elsewhere, Mike, in his typical unassuming way, would walk up to them, wag his tail, "chat them up" and drag them over to our stand. It was only thanks to Mike that we had a good book signing, after all. Later, I asked another Australian reporter to buy some flowers and put them on Bruce's grave for me. We do this, a lot. We have people delivering flowers to graves in Tahiti, Latin America, now also Australia, across Europe and Quebec. What else can you do if you have lived everywhere and your friends are buried all over the globe? Usually, we have to ask tough-guy reporters to do this for us. I can just see these assorted flower-carriers, slightly embarrassed, turning up at some graveyard, half-way across the world, a bunch of flowers in their arms, coughing: "Er, these are from Tess and the little dogs," wondering why these sentimental women are allowed in jobs like journalism, in the first place!

Mike also came through during a photo session on the yacht of Warren Jones, the operations director for Alan Bond's America's Cup Challenge, which in 1983 won the Cup from the Americans and changed the history of what is still the world's hottest yachting event. Warren is still very much an America's Cup personality and we had been invited to his yacht on the final day, for a photo session and a quick interview. In fact, when I had asked Warren for an interview the previous day, he had replied: "Please not, I have done so many already, I am exhausted." "Actually, it is not me who needs the interview. It is my Shih Tzu, Mike, who wants to interview you for his next book." "A Shih Tzu? Why didn't you say so?" Warren Jones beamed. "Of course you can come. I have a Shih Tzu mix, myself." Trust the dog to get you an interview! To give Mike his credit, the interview would have hardly come out, had it not been for his presence. The following day, on the yacht, rain-clouds formed in the sky as I tried to position Warren and Mike for photographs, before all hell broke lose in the British skies above. When we finally went inside for the interview, things were rushed, as Warren had to leave to see his lovely daughter to the ferry. No matter, I got side-tracked, anyway. "Wait a minute," I said suddenly, "Alan Bond owns Channel 9 in Perth, doesn't he?" "Yes, he does, why?" Jones replied. "Never mind," I replied, but my concentration had gone to the dogs, literally! Bruce had worked for Channel 9, and this was where my thoughts were. "Tess, ask your questions, I have to go," Warren urged. I wanted to ask when was the last time he had seen Bruce ...

Mike took charge again, jumped up beside Warren Jones on the sofa, very aware of this honor of being the first dog ever allowed on his yacht, and started working on him with his paw. This gave me time to order my thoughts and throw in some halfway decent America's Cup questions. Jones left a few minutes later, with a copy of Mike's book, and the promise to send us a photo of his dog. Despite the sad event overshadowing the regatta, we did have a funny moment at the last day of the Jubilee, where even I could not help laughing. The Jubilee Regatta, as most big sailing events, attracted a lot of celebrities and big money type of people.

The Aga Khan was there, Richard Branson, the kings of Sweden and Spain - get the drift? As a result, security was high. You were only allowed into the VIP areas with a press pass, or a gold pass. Outside the VIP area stood the crowd. By evening, that crowd got rather drunk. One day, I had just finished in the Media Centre and came out of the VIP gate, together with Mike. Mike was sitting in his little shoulder-bag, his press pass still around his collar. But it was hidden by the bag. As I came out, a drunken guy walked up to me, trying to impress his friends. "So, does your dog have a press pass, too, then?" he bawled at me. "How come your dog gets to go in, if it says pass-holders only?" "Of course he has a press pass," I countered and pulled Mike's press pass, bearing his photograph, out of the bag. "Any more questions?" The guy almost fell flat on his face. "I'll be darned," he stammered, "I was just kidding..." The crown-prince of Denmark, incidentally, did not mind being kept waiting at a restaurant called Alexander's, in Cowes, one evening, while the restaurant owner was out and about with Mike, walking him down some dirt lane! The owner's mobile phone rang; it was a message from the restaurant manager to say that the crown-prince was waiting for him. " I am here with Mike, the Shih Tzu," Alan Miller, the owner, said. "Tell the crown-prince I shall be there shortly, but we need to find the house first where Mike will be staying for the Regatta!" This was how Mike made his mark in Denmark and the crown-prince came to know about a certain, well-travelled Shih Tzu Reporter ...

One Hell of a Dog

Mike is really a very excellent companion and, as he has shown at the Jubilee Regatta, a brilliant friend in need as well. Every once in a while, he has his senior moments. He seems to forget things or it becomes evident that his hearing is not the best anymore. He has got the early stages of cataract, and has started sleeping in late in the mornings. He spends a lot more time, lying in the sun, rather than running around. But he is still one of the most amazing little dogs I have ever known, and I hope that we will share our lives for many more years to come! Mike's book's web page, with photos of Mike and Tiny, can be seen at the following websites.

http://proteapublishing.com/tinymike.htm
And: http://proteapublishing.com/tinymikereadmore.htm

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